Suffering his horse to take his own pace, he bent low as he passed the men, so that his face should not be seen. The moon rendered him just the right service for those critical moments. She showed herself through a rift in a cloud for a moment or two, and the light fell on the men.
He knew them all. The Dean was one. Four others were soldiers of the City Guard, whom he had seen constantly for years, in their frequent perambulations through the streets, and their halberds at this moment gleamed at the moon's uncovering, but went dull again when the clouds moved by, and the country and river were once more wrapped in gloom.
Cochlaeus was there, standing apart, trying to intercept him, but Herman drew the horse aside.
HERMAN DUG IN HIS HEELS AND THE HORSE GALLOPED PAST.
"Stop!" the man cried peremptorily, and held out his hand to catch at the bridle, but Herman dug in his heels, and the horse galloped past. Who was Cochlaeus, that he should exercise his authority here, in the open meadows, far away from the jurisdiction of the Burgomaster?
The horse plunged forward, and his hoofs thundered on the path. Herman turned to look back. The group was just as he had left it—a bunch of men, and that one who stood aloof; but although he could not see he supposed that they were gazing after him angrily, because he had treated Cochlaeus so cavalierly.
On went the horse, and Herman was elated at the thought that he had stolen a march on the men who were in pursuit of William Tyndale. At the pace the horse was travelling he would overtake the Marburg and give his warning. The captain would surely do something then to get his passenger away, if by any chance it became necessary.
While the horse galloped on, taking the path along the river-bank as though the rush through the night air was welcome after a spell of rest, Herman thought out a plan which would mean safety for Tyndale. All his desire now was to overtake the ship, get on board in some way—by swimming, if in no other manner—tell his story, and then follow out this idea of his. He knew of a charcoal burner's hut on the other side of the river, hidden away in the forest, and there, with Roye to help him, Tyndale could pursue his task, the amanuensis writing while the scholar slowly dictated his translation. The printing-press could do its part later, but at all events Tyndale's great work could go on.